


The Regina Mills Fan Club: Storybrooke Chapter

by amycarey



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:52:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3637428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amycarey/pseuds/amycarey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All the children of Storybrooke become obsessive Regina Mills fans and Emma accidentally becomes the president of the Storybrooke chapter of Regina Mills Fan Club – only to stop small children harassing decent Storybrooke citizens, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Regina Mills Fan Club: Storybrooke Chapter

Emma’s pretty sure something’s up when she turns up at her parents’ house for dinner after work and finds a group of kids meeting in the living room and speaking in hushed voices. They freeze when she comes in and then relax when Neal says, “it’s alright, Emma’s cool.”

 

She beams for a moment (because her baby brother thinks she’s _cool_ ). “Cool enough to know what’s going on?” she asks and Ruthie shakes her head solemnly, her dark braids swinging with such force that they hit her cheeks.

 

“You’re not in the club,” she says, hands on her hips and glaring so hard a crease forms between her eyebrows. “Go away.”

 

From behind her, Neal shrugs. “Sorry, Emma,” he says.

 

“ _I’m_ not the one getting bossed around by my five-year-old sister,” she says, raising an eyebrow, because Ruthie is so clearly the leader of this little group, and then Ruth stamps a tiny foot in patent leather T-bar shoes and she adds, “I’m going! I’m going!”

 

She bypasses the kitchen, not interested in being evicted from a second room in the house, and finds Henry at the dining room table. He hides a bag of corn chips under his shirt when he hears footsteps but relaxes when he sees it’s her. “Want one?” he offers, holding out the bag in hands that can’t possibly belong to her little boy because they’re so large and adult.

 

“You been kicked out of the living room too?” she asks, grabbing a handful of corn chips, and Henry nods, sighing.

 

“I mean, I don’t care,” he says really unconvincingly. “It’s just I’ve only got a few weeks before I go back to Arizona and it’d be nice to hang out with the kids. But they said I didn’t meet the criteria for becoming a club member.”

 

“Know what it’s all about?” Emma asks.

 

“Not a clue,” Henry says, shrugging.

 

“You are aware that there is a gang of small children in the living room utterly unsupervised,” Regina says from the doorway. “Please tell me you’re not encouraging our son to spoil his dinner, Emma.”

 

“His fault!” Emma says.

 

Henry widens his eyes. “Emma gave me the bag,” he says, lower lip quivering. It’s a trick that was rather more convincing when he was ten than it is now, but Regina still falls for it every time. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

 

Regina holds out her hand for the bag. “Go and supervise the children, Emma. Perhaps they’ll have a positive influence on you.”

 

“Judas,” Emma hisses, scowling at her son as she leaves. Henry smiles beatifically at her and Regina rolls her eyes.

 

When she returns to the living room the gang of children glare at her. “Regina made me,” Emma says, voice almost whining, and for some odd reason this placates Ruth, who walks over to her, nuzzling her head against Emma’s knee.

 

“She’s so pretty,” she says, sighing.

 

“Yeah, she is,” Emma replies and then realises what she’s said when there’s a sharp cough from behind her.

 

“As flattering as this is,” Regina says, “dinner’s ready so the rest of your gang should go home, Neal.”

 

Neal grins and nods over at the crowd of children, before closing a ratty notebook and shoving it into the depths of his school bag. Emma thinks she recognises Ashley and Aurora’s kids amongst the gang. “Do you need help washing up, Baby Snow?” Regina asks and Ruth nods her head eagerly, letting herself be led without fuss to the bathroom.

 

“So,” Snow asks when they sit down for dinner. “What were you all up to this afternoon, Neal?”

 

“It’s a secret,” Neal says. He darts a look over at Regina who is pushing pasta around on her plate with a fork, eyeing it dubiously like she does with all food cooked by Snow. “We’re not even telling Emma.”

 

“And _definitely_ not you, Mommy,” Ruth adds.

 

Regina laughs and Snow purses her lips. “And why is that, sweetheart?” Emma’s whole body screams ‘Abort! Abort!’ and she contemplates actually crawling under the table. Across from her Henry shoots her a panicked look and she thinks she has a fair idea who’s been telling Ruth stories about her god mother.

 

This is confirmed when Ruth starts her answer with, “because Henry says…”

 

“That it’s time for bed,” Henry says quickly, lifting Ruth from her cushioned seat and chucking her in a fireman’s hold over her shoulder. Ruth lets out a piercing, banshee-like wail all the way to her room but when Emma checks in on them a few minutes later, she’s curled up against Henry as he tells her a story. “And then Regina sacrificed her own safety to go undercover with the Queens of Darkness to find out what they were planning. They played chicken with a train… Hey, Ma.”

 

“Bedtime story?” Emma asks.

 

“Her choice,” Henry says.

 

“Go ‘way, Emma,” Ruth says, imperious even in her exhausted state, eyelids drooping and words slurred. “Or I’ll destroy you if it’s the last thing I do.”

 

Emma raises an eyebrow. “Terrifying.” It would be _more_ intimidating, she suspects, if Ruth didn’t have a lisp.

 

*

 

Ruth’s gang starts to become a problem around Storybrooke, wreaking havoc over the next weeks.

 

On Monday, they take up a booth in Granny’s, drinking chocolate milkshakes and whispering, heads together. It’s after school hours and Emma’s on her tea break, having a brief ice cream date with her son and his other mother. What unnerves her is that they keep darting looks over at their table and then returning to their muttering.

 

“Farewell, miscreants,” Regina says as they leave and a shrill cacophony of giggles pierces the air of Granny’s.

 

On Tuesday, Emma’s called into town hall because the gang has shown up and are “distracting the staff”. When she arrives, Regina has made an appearance and the kids are circling her and Emma feels this absurd desire to leap into the fray and protect her before she realises that they’re not ring-fencing her, but, like, fawning over her.

 

Regina behaves as though this is totally normal behaviour and when Emma has chivvied the small children out and returned with just Ruth (who is really too small to be wandering the streets of Storybrooke on her own) on her shoulders, she asks Regina about it. “Children like me,” Regina says. “I see nothing strange about it.”

 

Ruth sighs and pulls Emma’s hair, directing her closer to Regina, too close, and Emma bumps against her, smells the soft, floral scent of her perfume and feels the brush of Regina’s fingertips against her arm to steady her.

 

On Wednesday, Emma catches Ruth writing on the outside wall of Granny’s with a permanent marker – for a certain value of writing – and slaps her with a fine of no allowance for a month when she refuses to go and apologise to Granny. “She knows what she did,” Ruth says darkly.

 

“You’re _five_ ,” Emma replies.

 

On Thursday, she catches Aurora’s drippy son, Philip, with a bouquet of roses suspiciously close to Regina’s door while she’s on patrol. He tries to run, flowers flying in every direction, but she catches him and sits him down on Regina’s front stoop. “What’s the deal, kid?” she asks.

 

Philip immediately starts crying. She should have tried to get information out of Tiana’s little girl but last time she asked Dora a question, she’d said, “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

 

“I just weally, weally love Wegina,” he says between sobs. Of course he can’t say his ‘R’s. Of course. “And then Wuth set up the club.”

 

“Club?”

 

“It’s the Wegina Mills Fan Club,” he says, sniffling. “Please don’t tell Wuth I told you.”

 

“You know you’re, like, double her size, right?” Emma says.

 

“She’s scawy,” he says and shivers. “Can I go home now?”

 

Emma turns up at her parents’ house, bursting through the front doors. “It’s a fan club,” she says to Snow, who is baking cookies. She sits at one of the bar stools and sticks her finger in the batter. “The kids. They’ve created a Regina Mills Fan Club.”

 

Snow bats her hands away from the dough. “That’s outrageous.”

 

“Right?” Emma says.

 

“They didn’t ask me to join,” Snow continues.

 

“Wait. What?” Emma asks.

 

“I know it’s not ‘cool’ to spend time with your mom,” Snow says, “but I’ve been Regina’s biggest supporter since before Neal was born.”

 

“Snow,” Emma says.

 

But Snow continues. “I’ve tried to help her find happiness. I mean, it’s not my fault she and Robin didn’t work out…”

 

Emma tries to ignore the sharp twist in her stomach when Snow mentions Robin, a twist that is definitely not jealousy. “Mom!”

 

“We could set up our own chapter,” Snow says brightly. “You and me and Henry.”

 

“Wouldn’t that just be family dinners?” Emma asks. “I think Regina’s got a big enough ego without us swelling it further.”

 

“She’s really very insecure,” Snow says earnestly, cutting dough into the shape of birds.

 

“What are we going to do about the club?” Emma asks. “They’re a menace.”

 

“Perhaps they need a guiding hand,” Snow suggests. “Someone a little older to keep them out of trouble?”

 

And that is how Emma becomes the President of the Regina Mills Fan Club.

 

*

 

“Right,” Emma says, looking down at the agenda written out by Neal – the club secretary – in his neatest printing. “First up, we need to decide on some things we could do to make Regina feel happy.”

 

Ruth is sulking. “This is just like when Mommy tried to take Regina’s throne,” she’d said, when Snow and Emma had told her how it was going to be from now on.

 

“Exactly like it,” Snow said dryly. “There was the small matter of her taking the throne first, of course.”

 

Ruth had ignored her and Emma had had to appease her with the title of ‘Vice President’, the promise that she would get her allowance reinstated in spite of her transgressions against Granny and that she would sneak Ruth cookies from the kitchen before bed for a week. Now, Ruth sits cross-legged on the couch, ensuring that she is at least taller than Emma, who is on the floor. Sometimes Emma’s convinced that Regina’s actually her mother, not Snow – instead of just her god mother. “We could bake cookies,” Alex suggests, pulling her thumb from her mouth.

 

Ruth glares at her. “Regina can _make_ cookies,” she says. “Idiot.”

 

“Ruth, a good leader isn’t rude to people,” Emma says.

 

“You’re stupid too,” Ruth says. She definitely comes from the Regina Mills School of Leadership, Emma thinks.

 

They don’t get much further after that because Snow puts Ruth in time out and Emma walks the other kids home. Neal hugs her before she leaves. “I’m glad you’re president,” he whispers. “Ruthie’s bossy.”

 

“She is, isn’t she, kid?” Emma says.

 

“Besides,” Neal says. “ _You’re_ the biggest Regina fan in Storybrooke.” Emma laughs but he keeps looking at her with these big, serious eyes so all she can do is agree.

 

She drops by the Mifflin Street mansion after explaining to Ashley exactly why Alex is so upset. “Hey,” she says when Regina opens the door. She’s wearing charcoal slacks and a crisp white blouse and her lips are a frankly sinful shade of red. “Henry home?”

 

“He’s catching up with friends. He’ll be back for dinner,” Regina says. She pauses. “Would you like to stay?”

 

“Ruthie’s going to be bitter,” Emma says and, to Regina’s questioning look, adds, “I’d love to stay. Can I help with anything?”

 

“Uncork the wine,” she says and, leading Emma into the kitchen, hands her a bottle of merlot. Emma grabs the corkscrew and two wine glasses.

 

“You know, wine does come with screw tops,” she says, struggling to pop the cork.

 

“It also comes in boxes,” Regina replies, stirring what looks like Bolognese sauce. “I’m a little more refined than that.”

 

Emma rolls her eyes. “You say that a lot and yet when the Tequila comes out…”

 

The front door crashes open at that point and Henry enters. “Ma!” he says. “I thought you had a meeting.” She’d told Henry about the fan club because, well, she had to tell someone. He’d found it rather too amusing that she’d become the president. “It just fits,” he’d said, between peals of laughter.

 

“I don’t see how,” Emma had said grumpily. Just because she had a healthy respect for Regina. Just because she had a tendency to run into danger when Regina was involved. Just because she had spent just a little bit too long staring when she’d seen Regina in a bathing suit on their family vacation to the Hamptons last summer.

 

Henry had shot her the most Regina-esque of all his Regina looks at that point.

 

“The meeting ran short,” she says, taking a sip of wine. It’s really good, she’ll admit it. 

 

“Nap time?” Henry asks, grinning.

 

“Ruth got put in time out for calling me stupid,” Emma admits and Henry has to clutch his sides because he’s laughing so hard.

 

“Do I want to know?” Regina asks, taking a sip of wine. Her eyes close briefly at the taste, and there is something so beautifully serene in the contours of her face.

 

“Mom’s the president of a fan club,” Henry says.

 

“Not by choice,” Emma says, tapping Henry’s ankle with her foot and muttering, “you’re worse than your grandma.”

 

“And what, pray, _are_ you a fan of?” Regina asks. She tips a teaspoon into the sauce, tasting it, and adding a pinch more salt and chilli flakes.

 

“Yeah, Ma,” Henry says. “What are you a fan of?”

 

“You,” Emma says. She’s grouchy and embarrassing, feeling the flush rise high on her cheeks and her palms sweat.

 

Regina starts laughing, a throaty, sonorous chuckle. “Oh, Emma,” she says. “If you wanted to tell me you love me, you could have just said.”

 

“ _I_ didn’t found the club,” she says. “I took over in a bloodless coup because there’s a bunch of pre-teens running wild over Storybrooke, idolising you, and they’re led by Ruth, which always spells trouble.”

 

“Oh,” Regina says. “Is that what the little choir outside the house last Saturday was all about?”

 

Emma thinks she recalls seeing that on the agenda. _Talk about success of singing for Regina_. “What did they sing?” she asks.

 

“‘Can’t Buy Me Love’,” Regina says. “It was very sweet – if not especially tuneful. Ruthie has a … forceful voice. So,” she says, and her voice takes on an almost predatory quality, shades of the evil queen breaking through. “You’re the president of my fan club…”

 

“Don’t get any ideas,” Emma says and Regina laughs again.

 

After dinner, though, when Henry has retired to his room to do some reading for his return to college in September, Regina stands with her on the porch and Emma finds herself unable to leave, as if her feet are glued to the wood. “You know, there’s something kind of sexy about a crazed fan,” Regina says and she reaches out a hand to sweep Emma’s curls away from her face.

 

“You’re twisted,” Emma says. “Also, I’m not…” But she’s cut off by Regina’s lips meeting hers.

 

*

 

The next afternoon, Emma’s surprisingly upbeat in her meeting with the Regina Mills Fan Club over milkshakes at Granny’s (Ruth lifted the ban when Granny admitted that Regina’s lasagne _was_ definitely superior to her own). “Right,” she says. “Where were we with the agenda?”

 

But Dora’s eyes suddenly grow very wide and she points over at the door. “She’s here,” she whispers. The entire table of children and Emma swivel to the doorway, where Regina stands, resplendent in a navy shift dress that barely reaches her knees.

 

“She’s so beautiful,” Alex sighs.

 

Regina strides over. “Don’t let me interrupt,” she says and, leaning across, presses her lips firmly against Emma’s. “Dinner tonight, dear?”

 

Stunned, Emma stutters out a ‘yes’ and Regina turns on her heel, leaving. Neal sighs after her, eyes large and mournful. Dora says, “I guess it’ll be useful to have someone on the inside,” though she seems doubtful that Emma would be capable of any sort of undercover operation.

 

Ruth stares critically at Emma, before shrugging. “You’re still stupid,” she says. “But you’ll do.”

**Author's Note:**

> This vaguely came about from writing 'The Great Wide Somewhere' final chapter and far too much time spent chatting with people, being amused about how clearly all the Charmings have this gene that makes them madly in love with Regina. It has no actual connection to that story though. I am aware of the general implausibility of the small children.
> 
> Total unrepentant, ridiculous fluff. I had fun writing it though so I hope you enjoy reading.


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